To Love Somebody (The Way I Love You)
by Ellie 5192
Summary: "Nothing helps him more – teaches him more, shows him more, fills his heart with love more – than when the little rascals run into his office and launch themselves at his legs while he's putting on his tie for the evening broadcast." Will and Mac have twins.


_I borrowed (aka unashamedly stole) Emily's headcanon about Hampshire House. I also believe the floorplan I eventually used was the one Emily had in mind for one of her earlier stories. Em, I'm just stealing all your stuff today, my bad._

 _This idea has been floating in my head for months, and I finally got around to writing some of it down. Because hey, when it rains in Sorkin-land it pours._

 **To Love Somebody (The Way I Love You)**

Will knows he has a problem accepting people's love for him; not just their love, but their _unconditional_ love, and not just romantic love, but the kind he feels for Sloan and Maggie and Don, and even Neal. For all of them and the many struggles they have weathered together. The varying forms of love that manifest in their newsroom on any given day, in big and small ways, in jail terms or a pat on the back after an overnight broadcast on another school shooting. The kind that sees them spend their precious spare hours at the bar after work, or at each other's houses, or just _together_ , the way a family always comes back from its many fragmented pieces into a slightly jagged whole.

He's getting better at it. He started improving around the same time he pulled his head out of his ass and gave Mac the ring – started to see that so many different emotions can exist within a single person, often at the same time. He could be mad at her while still loving her. She could hold no hope for herself while still trying to hold him up. They could feel shitty about the past while trying to build a hopeful future. Together. (And that was the important thing, he realised; not so much how to dissuade these feelings, but how to share them; how to ease the burden by trusting that Mac would understand, because after all, if not her, then who?)

He gets that he still has a problem with trusting the love of others, but it's getting better.

And nothing helps him more – teaches him more, shows him more, _fills his heart with love_ more – than when the little rascals run into his office and launch themselves at his legs while he's putting on his tie for the evening broadcast.

Twins.

God, he almost died at the first ultrasound, when the technician laughed at him, turned the screen, and there in front of them were two tiny embryos. Mac took it all in wide-eyed stride; when it rains it pours, and _of course_ their miracle pregnancy would be twins. But Will – his heart didn't stop palpitating for the first six months after he read about vanishing twin syndrome, his anxiety skyrocketed after the doctor used the words 'high risk' and 'close monitoring' in the same sentence, and his blood pressure still hasn't come down over three years after they graced the world with their presence – probably never will now that he has _two_ more humans whose existence is vital to his own.

But having now triple the unconditional love – having a daughter that jumps from the fourth step of the staircase, certain he'll catch her despite his constant warnings about his back; having a son that looks so frighteningly similar to Will's younger brother, without any of the fear of a father's belt. Having Mac watching it all from beside him, a smile on her face like she could just stay forever observing her perfect little family; it's enough to make him cry on the best of days.

It spins his head to be father, which he expected. He spent many hours with Habib learning how to keep his head on straight long enough to get through the bare necessities of being a functioning human being, let alone a reasonably decent parent.

But he never expected the peace that came with it too.

" _We're thinking Jonathon for a boy" says Mac, nursing her diet cola while Don slowly gets wasted on a Friday night. Since taking the Big Job upstairs she doesn't get to see them half as much, and Hang Chews is possibly the only reliable catch-up after Elliott's hour. (They are also most definitely not naming his son Jonathon, but for the sake of conversation he stays quiet and lets Mac spin whatever bullshit she's indulging in tonight)._

 _Will sits down with his refill and a second for Maggie, which she takes with a wide smile that he's happy to see. (He knows she knows that he's watching her intake, almost much as she is, though she is so much better than she was post-Uganda. But he can't help but hover, and he thinks she's found her own way to appreciate it. They so rarely get to spend time with her now she's in DC, so being able to hover at all is a treat. Not that Will would admit any of that)._

" _I think you should name him after me" says Don, smiling in a very smug way._

 _She tips her head sideways and furrows her brow. "Donathon?"_

 _Maggie almost chokes on her scotch. "That sounds like a rejected Transformer" she says, grinning at Don. "Are you a rejected Transformer, Don?"_

 _He makes a face at her, but doesn't get a chance to answer when Mac corrects Maggie with a little more solemnity than is strictly necessary for this conversation._

" _Deceptacon" she says, "is probably more likely. Donathon the Mighty Deceptacon"_

 _Maggie starts giggling and nodding along; Will has no idea what anyone is talking about, but he's sure he has a goofy look on his face watching his family make fun of each other anyway._

 _Don just looks confused. "You're not speaking English right now, you know that don't you?"_

 _Mac makes a gesture with her hands, and Will knows that she's about to go on a rant. Don has had one too many drinks to recognise her mood, but Maggie just smiles and Will smiles at her, and the both of them sit back and watch as, sure enough…_

" _Don, I am suddenly put in the precarious position where, not only do I have to prepare for the impending birth of my first two babies at the same time" (which she is secretly quite scared of, Will knows) "but I also have to learn and understand the consumer culture of both little girls and little boys" (which frankly pisses her off, because girls can play baseball too dammit, and though Will's Midwestern sensibilities would balk somewhat at his son wearing a fairy princess dress, Mac couldn't give two shits so long as they're both happy and healthy and moderately sane given the circumstances)._

 _Mac continues, as Don rests his head on his hand and smirks, "All while desperately trying not to imprint my poor defenceless children with gender stereotypes like the helpless tiny baby ducks that they are" (she even throws in an exaggerated look of earnestness, just to tease, because as much as she means every word, she also knows she's being slightly ridiculous)._

" _It's a very scary world out there, Don" adds Maggie to the end, agreeing in good humour with Mac and tilting her glass in her direction as a toast._

" _Hence, I think my name would serve them well" he says, eye wide._

 _Will grins, and winks at Mac over his glass. "Maybe we'll name the girl after you instead"_

 _Maggie bursts out laughing. Mac nods earnestly, "Donnatella. That's pretty. I like that"_

 _They all laugh at his expense, watching Sloan and Jim making their way over from the door, Don taking it on the chin like the sport he is. "Funny. You're all very funny"_

Of course, he did not name either of his children after Don. He loves Don, sure, but not that much, and certainly not enough to grace his little blonde-haired Irish princess with such a name as Donnatella.

Speaking of which. The loud chorus of _Daddy_ as they run into his office is the best part of his day. Not a single moment beats it.

Which is another war he never expected to have inside his own mind; one that Habib is guiding him through with the patience of a saint. Because now that he knows – now that he _knows_ – the exact pressure that this love exerts inside his chest, which expands outwards and burns every time one of the kids tells him they love him, asks him for a cuddle, calls for him to fix their bruises. Now that he can feel it for himself, the anger at his own father takes him thoroughly by surprise.

He worked through so many things, and moved beyond so much of it, but not this.

He looks at his children and feels physically ill at the thought of doing just a fraction of what his own father did to him. Knows he would unequivocally jump off the tenth floor balcony if he so much as raised a finger to those kids, let alone a belt, a fist, a bottle. He had worked through some of that anger before, when he had similar thoughts about Mac (knowing what his father put his mother through; knowing now what a young boy couldn't about marriage and expectations and the kind of mean son of a bitch that would brutalise his wife in every way). And he knows he overcompensates; _you don't have to buy their love Billy, it's unconditional for a reason_. But he can't help it. He'd rather spoil the children than see a moment of pain.

But god. The burning in his throat when he looks his son in the eye and all he sees is trust. Blind, unassuming trust; that Will can catch him every time he falls, no matter how that fall may come.

 _Daddy, it's show time_ , he says with a smile, and Will holds him close and hugs him – hugs them both goodnight while Mac reluctantly waits to head out the door, leaving the ever-faithful Jim in her stead.

 _It's show time, bud_ , he says. (It's not quite show time; it's only 6pm, but the kids need to go home for dinner and a bath, and they don't watch the show anyway because it's _boring_ , and _Daddy says too many big words_ , so what's the difference). And they all grin at each other, father and children, and exchange kisses and _I love you_ 's between the three of them, and Mac knows. Mac always knows when his mind wanders into dark places. Perhaps it's because his hugs are just a little tighter, but no matter. She just kisses him and says _good show tonight_ , same as they've done for four years. Sometimes she struggles with being on a different floor too, and he smiles and tells her that he approves a tiny bowl of ice cream for dessert.

The kids cheer and Mac rolls her eyes. She's not mad, she just thinks he's ridiculous.

He waves through the glass door at the three of them as they head out home for the night, and tries not to count the minutes until he's home with them.

" _I have a suggestion I'd like you to consider" she says softly. "With the names"_

 _He looks down at the top of her head and turns the television down a few notches. "Shoot"_

 _She sits up and looks him in the eye, rubbing her growing tummy absentmindedly._

" _I'd like to name one of them after Jim" she says._

 _And for a moment he wonders why. Why Jim and not any of the others that have slaved tirelessly at their sides for so long. But the movement of her hand reminds him of a thick, pink scar that stretches across her belly, long predating the faint stretch marks that join it. His mind remembers the night she explained in graphic detail those perilous days; Jim carrying her limp body through the streets, held together with a field tourniquet he made from his own shirt; Jim sitting by her side in Germany because Will wasn't there to do it himself; Jim following her across the Atlantic and then just a little bit further to a job he didn't know with a boss he didn't trust. Jim figuring out that the Billy who Mac screamed about under sedation was the same Mr Will McAvoy, and still sticking around, ready to pounce, even to this day._

 _They had agreed, the very day they found out about the pregnancy – as they were leaving the same man's house, dressed all in black – that somewhere in the mix, girl or boy, would be the name Charlie. The old man had forced them back together in a bold and crazy effort to see his vision fulfilled; he was the true Don Quixote; he was Will's father._

 _Charlie had been their touchstone, and their pioneer._

 _But Jim had made sure Charlie could do it in the first place. Jim had brought her home alive. In more ways than one._

" _We could use James for a boy" says Will, softly. "Or Harper for a girl"_

 _Mac smiles at him, eyes watery. She kisses him firmly, with her bump caught between them._

" _That sounds great" she says._

" _But only for a middle name" he adds, with false sternness. "I don't want him getting a big head"_

 _She just smiles at him a little more. "Of course, dear"_

When he gets home, the lights in the house are dim as they so often are, a sense of 'sleep time' in the air. Sometimes Mac lets the children watch his hour, but tonight had featured stories not appropriate for toddler's ears, and so he's not surprised that the kids are in bed.

Jacqui – their young au pair from France who stays over three nights during the week so Mac can make early morning meetings and stay at work late if needed – is making herself a peanut butter sandwich in the kitchen when he walks in to sneak a drink straight from the milk carton.

"Don't tell on me" he says in a faux whisper. She laughs at him and winks in compliance. Will likes her – she's cheeky, and a bit blunt like Sloan. At first he thought it was a language barrier thing, but time has shown that's just Jacqui, and Will appreciates the honesty of someone not afraid to show their true colours. And the kids adore her, so for now he's happy to share the apartment and give her use of the study-cum-spare-room. It helps everyone function a little better – keeps everything just a little more on track – and they're hardly the first working parents to get help. She disappears towards her room with the sandwich on a plate and her phone in hand. (Mac thinks she's seeing someone; Will doesn't particularly care, so long as no shithead punk comes near his kids).

He makes his way to the children's bedroom to peak his head in. Their single beds are separated by a small table with books and a nightlight on it; it spins with dolphin images and it's the only one they could agree on after half an hour in the store. The room is so thoroughly divided into 'his' and 'hers' that Will sometimes expects to come home and find the wall split right down the middle, one half purple and the other green (a paint job he could at least live with in the short term if it comes to it). As it is, there's a lavender fairy net over his daughter's bed, and his son has a Monsters Inc bed spread and a lime green rug under his toy box to match. The rest of the furniture is a constant compromise; a chest of draws painted both colours, a white desk with one chair of each; a mural canvas in tasteful lilac and green apple in lieu of a feature wall. Luckily, that particular colour scheme seems to be a _thing_ for kid's rooms, so it doesn't look too out of place.

But still. It's all a bit much for three year olds if you ask Will. Even if he was the one to authorise every purchase.

He wants to sneak in and give them kisses, but Ben is a light sleeper and will surely wake up if Will so much as breathes heavily, and if Ben wakes he won't be quiet about it, and before long Chloe will want five more stories and a warm milk before she settles again, and… it's all too hard. Will got his mandatory hugs earlier, so with a sigh he pulls his head from the door and closes it almost all the way.

He steps across the office space separating the bedrooms (another 'his' and 'hers' domain, their matching desks jutted against each other in the middle of the room, adored with piles of paper; Mac's stack is actually work-related while Will's mess comprises almost entirely of crude crayon drawings and the sports section) and wanders into their room. Mac is sitting up in bed, her glasses perched on her nose, monthly costings and department reports spread across the doona, both hardcopy and on her laptop. The price of leaving work early enough for dinner is that she has to bring it with her, but she'd rather write emails and answer memos in her leggings and no bra than stay late and miss making bubble moustaches at bath time.

She looks up and smiles at him as he gently closes the door behind him, making sure the latch catches. Jacqui's room is at the other end of the house and the plush rugs have a tendency to muffle noise pretty well, but it's still nice to ensure they get some alone time; truly, it's essential, given how scarce it has become.

"The kids still asleep?" she asks. He walks over to the side of the bed and leans over, his hands balancing him across the distance, to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Out like little lights… little lights that are switched off… you know, that's a terrible metaphor now I think of it"

She grins at him softly. "Only when you mangle it"

He gives her a look and then digs his phone and wallet out of his pockets and places them on his bedside table.

"Good show tonight" she says. His gaze flicks to the muted television mounted on the wall, and he nods in acknowledgement of her praise. If she has no notes to give him, she must have been satisfied with Jim's handling of the interview (which, in all honesty, was a clusterfuck from the get-go, but they bailed out with surprising grace and moved on). He smiles at her – she still can't help but produce him, four years later.

"Thanks. How's Pruitt?" he asks, shedding his jumper and then his shirt.

"Surprisingly altruistic today" she replies, gathering up her papers in a particular (if somewhat haphazard) order. He knows some of them must be remnants of her meeting marathon from earlier. He never appreciated, when he was sipping scotch late at night or busting in doors first thing in the morning, just how much was on Charlie's plate. Mac manages to keep all the balls in the air – work, home, _him_. He'd told Nancy once, over a nice dinner in town, just how much he admires Mac's skills, and her laugh still rings in his ears.

"Oh?" He loses the pants, flicking off his shoes at the same time, keeping the socks. His feet fare okay at night, but Mac has a habit of tucking her ice-blocks against the nearest source of heat and in the interest of keeping his wife tucked against his side he likes to prepare himself for the onslaught.

"He approved all but two of my budgets. He even allowed for some bonuses this quarter"

Will gives her a look. She gives one back. "I know. I was surprised too" she says. "Looks like Jim is finally going to get that raise you've been bugging me for"

Will grabs his teeshirt from behind his pillow and decides to just sleep in his boxers. Mac sets her things on her bedside table, taking off her glasses and setting them on top of the pile as well.

"Bugging you? He's _your_ lacky. I thought you'd be pleased"

"He's a little more than a _lacky_ " she says with an eyeroll, scooting under the covers while remaining seated. "You wouldn't have lasted this long with him if he wasn't brilliant in his own right, and I don't name my children after just any old intern"

As if the universe were proving its point, Will spots Chloe's dressing gown half hidden under his side of the bed – probably left over from the last time she and Ben played hide-and-seek, even though they know they're not supposed to come in Mummy and Daddy's room without them being there. He picks it up, groaning dramatically at a crick in his back, and then stands with a serene look on his face. He fingers the little pink monogram on the lapel; _CHM_ looped and swirled around a purple butterfly. (They decided to buy the gowns two sizes too big when they got them lettered, just to make sure they'd outlast the next growth spurt. It swims on Chloe; she looks thoroughly adorable with her sleeves rolled up. Ben hardly wears his long enough for it to matter, unless they're cuddling on the couch for movie nights).

He tosses the gown on the chair in the corner, and then turns back to Mac. "Maggie deserves a honeymoon in Europe" he says, shrugging a little, going back to the raise thing.

"Is that what he's planning on using the bonus for?" asks Mac, a giant grin plastered on her face while Will smirks and nods. She knew Jim was looking at Paris, but if that little extra money can buy them a few more destinations she will write the cheque herself. As it is, they already gave the crazy kids a hunk of money towards the down payment on their new condo as a wedding present. The actual wedding was just over a month ago, but their work schedules didn't quite line up, so Jim has been planning the World's Greatest Belated Honeymoon in every spare minute. Mac gets endless emails from him, asking what markets in Germany are the best, and where in Barcelona they should stay, and it's all a bit adorable, especially since his new wife is currently on a field producing assignment in London and therefore has a pretty good idea of things herself.

"Maybe we should get away too" says Will, wandering into the ensuite. "The only time the kids have been on a plane is to England and back"

"Or Nebraska"

"That hardly counts, they were six months old". He emerges a moment later with his toothbrush in his mouth, a comb in hand that he runs a few lazy times through his hair before tossing on the bureau.

"That would be nice" she replies, smiling at the thought. "I'll look at my calendar tomorrow, see what dates would look workable. We'd have to make sure someone can cover you"

He shrugs nonchalantly; they don't have to have all the answers tomorrow, it was just nice to put the idea out there and see if it would take. But it has been a long time since they went away without it being Christmas at her parent's place or some other family commitment at all corners of the continent. A nice trip somewhere warm and foreign this winter would be absolute bliss.

He goes back into the bathroom to rinse his mouth, then comes back out and jumps straight into bed, snuggling down under the doona. He sighs in contentment; he took the kids to kindergarten this morning, and then it was one meeting after another, in between rundowns and difficult guest prep, and it's just been a long day. Not that he has the gall to complain to Mac about it; she's in the same boat.

She shuffles down next to him under the doona, reaching her hand over behind her to turn the lamp off. They'll talk for a while yet, catch up on each other's day in the quiet of their room; cuddle and reconnect where they have privacy to be candid, even if doesn't lead to anything tonight. He throws his hand up and over her head, and she scoots close into his side and sighs when his arm comes back down around her back, his hand coming to rest at her waist. He kisses her hair, feels her smile, and waits for her to tell him what her day was like.

" _Are they all there?" asks the nurse with an indulgent smile, not at all surprised to find that Will has unwrapped her perfect swaddling to look again at his son's tiny body. He's been fascinated since they were born yesterday morning, watching them and all their quirks with a keen eye and a look of abject fear on his face._

" _Eight fingers, four thumbs, twenty toes between them. Sound about right?"_

" _Sounds good to me"_

 _Will just grins at her, and then refolds the blanket meticulously around the fussing baby. Mac is in the chair in the corner, getting the hang of breastfeeding one baby at a time before attempting to master two. The boy – Benjamin Charles McAvoy, Will thinks to himself, a tear in his eye at the thought of Charlie even months after they decided to give their child his name – is starting to squirm for his dinner, and Will stands with him in his arms and begins rocking gently. They signed all the papers today, ink still drying on the birth certificates. He's officially a father, twice over._

" _She all finished?" asks the nurse of Mac, gesturing to the infant in her arms who is clearly fast asleep and not at all interested in eating more._

" _I think so" answers Mac, pulling her breast from the baby's mouth and watching the perfect round little lips go limp in deep sleep. Mac lets the nurse take her from her arms – "Come on Miss Chloe Harper, you little cutie", she coos – and they watch as she wraps her back up on the bed and places her in the plastic bassinette._

" _Okay Daddy, take two" says Mac, gesturing for him to bring Benjamin forward as she closes one side of her top and reveals the other breast. He places the baby in her arms and watches as she manoeuvres his mouth into position at her nipple._

" _Casey, are you sure there will be enough milk for them both?" she asks, watching the baby start to take his fill at a rapid pace._

" _You'd be surprised what the human body can do" replies their nurse. "As soon as your boobs realise they're getting emptied at double time, they'll start producing double the milk"_

 _Mac gives her rueful look. "You don't know how much a McAvoy can eat"_

 _Will gasps in outrage. Casey just laughs, shaking her head. Her expert eye is watching that Benjamin is eating okay, but so far he is latched on fine, and Mac has taken to breastfeeding like a pro. She doesn't feel the need to step in._

" _If they're not, we can cross that bridge when we get to it – supplement with formula a couple of times a day if needed. But you're doing great, and they're looking good. Don't worry about that for now. Just enjoy this time, Mama"_

 _Will thinks that's hilarious, telling new parents (with a myriad of anxiety and PTSD issues between them) that they should just 'take it easy' and 'not sweat the small stuff'. These are his precious children, dammit, he'll stress if he goddamn wants to. But he just gives Mac a look and stays quiet. He'll do some reading on the laptop later to assess their options._

 _Will sits on the bed, his eyes flicking between Chloe in the bassinette and Mac holding Benjamin, a serene look on her face. He catches her eye and she smiles at him; he gives her one back, a big dopey grin, because they did it – she did it – and they have two perfect little bundles to show for it. A Pigeon Pair. If this is a dream he has no intention of waking up. She must know at least a little of what he's thinking, because she winks at him with a smirk. She's so happy – he can see it written on her face – and he could practically burst with pride and joy and a million other emotions he never could have foreseen in that bar, chatting with Charlie about hypothetical fatherhood._

 _They won't do this again. Even if they could – even if his age wasn't a factor and Mac's body could tolerate another pregnancy after such a high-risk – two is the perfect amount of children for people still too dedicated to their work to fully give it up. Slow down the work load, maybe, but already he's assessing childcare options and the cost of live-in nannies, and their jobs are demanding on both time and energy without adding to the guilt already building at the thought of leaving the babies for even an hour. They have one of each, both healthy. They have a happy marriage and a house just big enough for them all to fit comfortably, even when the twins grow bigger and want their own rooms._

" _We did good, Billy"_

 _Mac's voice shakes him from his reverie, and he smiles at her and walks over to her chair, bending down to kiss her softly._

" _We did better than good" he says, tucking loose hair behind her ear. "We did fucking fantastic"_

 _She shushes him with a laugh, but she agrees with him. He's been working on toning down his language, as much as it's a tough habit to break. And if a toddler running around day care screaming 'fucking wanker' is the absolute worst he's going to do as a father, he thinks life is pretty damn awesome._


End file.
